


French Fries and Monster Eyes

by undeading



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Attempted robbery, Demons, Kissing, Knife Mention, M/M, demon ritsu, fast food restaurant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeading/pseuds/undeading
Summary: A shadowed figure stares at him—bores deep into his soul with burning, ruby-red eyes—and goosebumps shoot across his skin; an instinctual reaction of a prey animal looking death in its jaws.“Jeez—” Mao rubs at his chest and frowns. “You snuck up on me again, Ritsu.”
Relationships: Isara Mao/Sakuma Ritsu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	French Fries and Monster Eyes

“Isara-kun, do you need the mop?” Anzu asks as she wheels a neon yellow bucket into the kitchen.

Mao hits pause on jabbing a spatula at a mysterious burnt clump stuck to one of the burger grills. “Oh, Anzu—” _Scrape, scrape._ “Already done in the front? Hold on—” He gives the mysterious charcoaled substance one final stab and pumps a fist triumphantly when it cracks and flies free of old, hardened grease.

Anzu claps her hands, impressed. “Nice. I think that’s been there since Wednesday.”

Mao grimaces. “Gross.” He tosses the spatula into a sink filled with steaming soapy water and motions his head at the mop. “You can just leave it there. I still have to do the dishes and sweep.”

“I can sweep,” Anzu offers, but as usual, Mao crosses his arms and shakes his head in response. She sighs, though evidently knows better than to try and win against her coworker's stubborn chivalry because she doesn’t press any further.

“Did you see the news this morning?” Mao asks, already starting to usher Anzu towards the back of the kitchen. “The latest robbery happened not too far from here. There’s no way I’m letting you miss your last bus— you’d have to walk right through that area, you know? It’s not safe.”

Anzu reluctantly enters the employee room—a small space with storage, a mini fridge, and two chairs placed around a square table; the bare necessities of a minimum wage fast food job that just barely cares about employee comfort—and opens her locker. “I always feel so bad leaving you here to finish up…” she mumbles as she slips into the one working restroom.

Mao nods as though he’s heard this a hundred times, because he has. “I know,” he calls, loud enough for Anzu to hear through the door. “You’ve been like that since high school—always trying to help everyone whenever you can.” He unhooks a broom and dustpan from their mounts on a wall. “But getting you home okay is way more important than me having to stay, like, twenty minutes by myself.”

Anzu can’t argue with that, and Mao’s just finished sweeping the kitchen when she comes out of the back room in a fresh set of clothes that have the luxury of not smelling like onions and french fry oil.

“All good?” Mao asks. Anzu nods, so he empties the dustpan into the trash and hoists the bulging plastic bag out of its can. He ties the bag off and says, “I’ll walk you out.”

They exit through the rear of the building into an alleyway that they share with a tailor shop and an antique store, and they both shiver at the cool evening air; a dramatic contrast to the stuffy restaurant interior. Mao holds the door open with his foot and keeps the garbage in his hand away from Anzu’s nice cardigan.

“Alright, well… See you in class tomorrow,” Anzu says with a small wave. “Don’t forget, Professor Sagami’s giving us a quiz.”

Mao snorts. “Unless _he_ forgets.”

Anzu’s laugh echoes through the empty street. Mao watches her leave until she’s on the adjacent busy, well-lit road.

“Okay,” he says to himself. “Let’s finish up.”

He pushes open one of the dumpsters lining the back wall and tosses his trash bag inside, wincing when the lid slips from his hand and slams shut with a loud, metallic bang. Not wanting to garner the attention of any annoyed neighbors, he spins on his heel to head back inside—and a _scream_ rips from his lungs. A shadowed figure appearing from nowhere looms over him in the semi-darkness; a nightmare under the busted alley light that their manager refuses to pay to fix. It stares at him—bores deep into his soul with burning, ruby-red eyes—and goosebumps shoot across his skin; an instinctual reaction of a prey animal looking death in its jaws.

“Good evening, Maa-kun.”

 _‘Ah.’_ The sleepy, dream-like voice caresses Mao’s ears like the finest silk; cool as the underside of a pillow and settling his nerves like one would, though not completely. His heart still thrums with residual shock. A stray butterfly flutters here and there, too.

“Jeez—” Mao rubs at his chest and frowns. “You snuck up on me again, Ritsu.”

The figure glides under the one working light and his features come into view: a young, pretty face framed with shiny black hair; tired yet playful eyes, with lips upturned into a fond grin. Most prominent, though, are the burnt-red horns sprouting from the sides of his head and curving into short, ribbed curls over pointed, pierced ears. Even as he—Ritsu—steps onto the ground to stand as a normal person would, he maintains the aura of an otherworldly, dangerous creature. (Mao had quickly learned, though, that those fiery eyes hold nothing but adoration when directed at him).

“I’m sorry,” Ritsu says with a quaint sideways tilt of his head, and—ah—his prank is quickly forgiven. He takes both of Mao’s hands in his own—his skin is just a little too warm, as usual—and kisses Mao’s cheek with lips that leave a tingle in their wake.

Mao turns his head to press his own lips to Ritsu’s when he remembers what he’d just been doing. “Wait, my hands are dirty,” he realizes, leaning away and trying to wiggle his fingers out from between Ritsu’s.

Ritsu doesn’t budge, though. Instead, he just smiles wide, baring fangs. “I doubt any human germs could do much to me,” he says.

Mao huffs and rolls his eyes. “Just get inside before anyone comes by,” he mutters, yanking this ethereal entity into an old, greasy burger joint.

Ritsu trails behind with graceful, weightless steps. At first, the way he moved unnerved Mao; would send a shiver down his spine at such unnatural movements coming from someone so nearly human. Back then, Mao didn’t know what to make of a _demon_ showing up in his life. Ritsu has since wormed his way into Mao’s sense of normalcy, for better or worse.

“Cleaning alone again?” Ritsu asks, gliding past Mao and settling in on top of a medium-sized freezer. He’s said that the stainless steel is just cool enough to balance out his hellish skin. Mao thinks he looks like a lazy housecat up there.

“Yeah, I sent Anzu home,” Mao says as he goes around the kitchen and tosses used rags into a bin.

Ritsu is silent when Mao pulls on elbow-length rubber gloves and dives into the sea of dishes, but when Mao spares a glance up towards the ceiling, Ritsu’s eyes are narrowed like a pet that’s been ignored. Mao does ignore him, just to see how long his pettiness will last. A little game. Payback for the scare earlier. It isn’t until the sink is empty and Mao is wheeling the mop into the kitchen from where Anzu had left it in the doorway that he finally hears a familiar long, drawn-out sigh; nonverbal yet vocalized defeat.

“You take such good care of her, Maa-kun.”

“Well, she’s my friend,” Mao says as he washes over sticky laminate flooring. “I’m looking out for her. It’s not safe to walk home alone at night.”

Ritsu peers farther over the ledge of the freezer. “You return home alone,” he points out.

Mao knows where this is going. Ritsu, after hanging around Mao in the back of a fast food restaurant for months, has become quite fascinated with the rest of Mao’s life. Many times now, he’s asked to see what Mao’s home looks like, and many times now, Mao has told him that he’s not so sure about bringing a demon to meet his parents. Sneaking one in behind their backs feels even worse.

He trusts Ritsu, honestly, but the world of monsters is one that’s so new and intimidating to him that he much rather prefers sticking to their workplace routine—for now, at least. He even once let Ritsu turn invisible to the unknowing eye and watch him work a shift to satisfy the demon’s curiosity. (Ritsu had claimed that for Mao to be able to see him, he required a drop of blood. Mao doesn’t know how truthful that was, but he still showed up to work the next day with a bandaid on his neck and a demon on his shoulder. No one ran away screaming, anyway).

“I live closer than Anzu does,” Mao says simply. He dunks the mop back into its tub and wrings excess water out. “It’s not a big deal if I go home by myself.” Before Ritsu can object, he adds, “Speaking of home…?”

Ritsu sighs again and rolls onto his stomach. He always has a story to tell about why he’s chosen to escape to the human world on any given day. “My brother’s coronation ceremony is coming up, so the palace is even busier than usual.” He frowns. “So many people stomping around, shouting across halls, pulling me into endless conversation…”

Mao has to hold back a laugh at the idea of Ritsu plastering on a fake smile and behaving like a proper second prince. He turns away as he mops so as not to send Ritsu into another pout.

“It’s all so _loud_ …” Ritsu shuts his eyes. “Ah, I wish I could stay here forever with you, Maa-kun. All I need is the quiet so I can sleep next to you for eternity.”

Mao scrubs at a stubborn grease stain. “Sleeping for eternity isn’t a good thing for humans, Ritsu.”

“Then I’ll stay awake.”

“Impossible,” Mao snorts. “Besides, this place is chaos during the day—you know, you’ve seen it. You’d hate being here for eternity.”

Suddenly Ritsu is in front of Mao, leaning in so abruptly their noses bump and Mao stumbles to balance himself on the slippery floor. Ritsu hooks a sturdy arm around Mao’s waist to steady him. “Are you rejecting me, Maa-kun?”

 _‘Pfft. So spoiled.’_ Mao strokes nimble fingers along one of Ritsu’s horns and trails them down into thick, fluffy hair. He kisses him placatingly once, twice, three times. “What do you think?”

Ritsu settles into a grin and rests his cheek on Mao’s shoulder, careful not to jab him with his horns. “Let’s go somewhere else, then,” he hums. “The ley line beneath this building is a doorway, but I’m not bound to the walls it presents me. I can follow you to the ends of the Earth.”

“Yes, yes,” Mao says, reaching around to pat Ritsu’s back. “And let me guess… My room is one of those ends.”

Ritsu’s breath tickles Mao’s ear. “How bold, Maa-kun.”

Mao closes his hand into a fist and half-heartedly smacks Ritsu’s shoulder blade. _“Ritsu.”_

Ritsu giggles into the crook of Mao’s neck. “Humans can be so shy.”

 _“You know what I meant,”_ Mao stresses, pulling away from Ritsu so he can continue mopping. “Go wait over there—” He waves a hand in the opposite direction. “—I’m almost done.”

Ritsu obediently floats onto a countertop and sits with one leg crossed over the other. This solves Mao’s clingy problem at surface level, but just because they aren’t physically touching doesn’t make Ritsu’s stares any less distracting. Mao can feel eyes on his every movement, from the time he puts his cleaning supplies away to the time he clocks out and retreats to the back room to change. When he returns to the spotless kitchen, he immediately feels like a deer in headlights as Ritsu’s diamond-shaped pupils dilate eagerly.

“Ah, Maa-kun,” Ritsu sighs happily. “You look so cute.”

Mao glances down at his torn jeans and oversized hoodie and adjusts the worn backpack hanging off of one shoulder. “You wear such nice clothes, since you’re royalty,” he says, tugging at a frayed string dangling from his sleeve and wondering how in the world Ritsu could prefer _this_ over his own regal uniforms adorned in woven gold and sparkling gems. “Why do you always get so excited about my old—”

Ritsu once again swarms into Mao’s personal space, this time hoisting Mao into the air and twirling him so quickly that Mao yelps and wraps his arms around Ritsu’s shoulders in fear that Ritsu will decide to start flying.

He doesn’t, though. Ritsu sets Mao down with an enamored laugh and peppers delighted pecks from cheek to cheek as he guides Mao back against a wall. “I would love to see you dressed as my prince,” he admits, “but regular human Maa-kun is the best Maa-kun. You’re so soft.”

Mao hums and drops his backpack to the floor so he can rest his arms comfortably at Ritsu’s waist. “Do all demons like to cuddle?” he teases. “Or are you one of a kind?”

Ritsu’s response is to reach behind Mao for the fuse box—Mao hadn’t realized that they ended up next to it, but he’s sure it was intentional, knowing Ritsu—and he quickly runs his hand down the row, flicking off lightswitch after lightswitch until the whole building is lit only by moonlight and street lamps shining through the front windows and barely reaching them in the recesses of the kitchen. Suddenly it feels quieter than before; Mao thinks even his breathing is too loud.

“Shall we?” Ritsu asks, and his clear voice makes Mao jolt. “Cuddle? No one can see us here.”

“You’re such a handful,” Mao says with a click of his tongue, but his palms find Ritsu’s cheeks with the help of the subtle red glow lining Ritsu’s irises and he pulls him into a slow, gentle kiss. Most nights end up like this: Mao taking advantage of owning a work key to linger in private with a demon for much longer than he should.

When Mao takes a breather and rests his cheek against Ritsu’s warm one, Ritsu practically preens at the affection. He presses closer to Mao, hands roaming over Mao’s sweater in playful patterns, and soon leads him into another kiss.

_Clunk._

“What—” Mao says between breaths. “What was—that?”

“Hmm?” Ritsu drawls, tonguing at Mao’s lower lip.

Mao ignores the tingle in his stomach. “There was—a noise.”

Ritsu moves his mouth to Mao’s neck. “Where is your attention, Maa-kun?”

“Hold on, Ritsu—”

_CLUNK._

A jarring racket—clearly the sound of someone shaking a door until it clatters against its metal frame—sends the hair on the back of Mao’s neck shooting up. He puts a firm hand to Ritsu’s chest and Ritsu obeys when he feels Mao’s sincerity.

"It appears the front door is locked,” Ritsu says, but that’s the problem.

“We’re obviously closed,” Mao whispers, voice instinctually dropping low. “No one should…” He takes a couple steps to the side to peer around Ritsu at an angle that lets him see partway into the front of the restaurant, but nothing appears to be amiss. Still, his vantage point is limited and the security cameras are all for show—long since broken, with a promise from management that they’ll be replaced _“later.”_

“Shall I check for you?” Ritsu asks, squeezing one of Mao’s hands. Without waiting for a reply, Ritsu soars out of the kitchen and over the registers in wingless flight.

 _“Ritsu!”_ Mao hisses. He isn’t sure if Ritsu had the forethought to shroud his appearance, and the last thing he needs is for the restaurant to be surrounded by rumors of a flying man. Everything is more unsettling in the dark, though, so Mao finds it hard to leave his tangible, sturdy wall just to corral a stray demon who can overpower him in a second, should he want to. Ritsu can see in the dark, anyway—he’s the more logical lookout, clearly.

“The street is empty,” Ritsu calls.

Mao lets out a relieved breath and opens his mouth to beckon Ritsu back—

_Creak._

Mao freezes. He turns his head ever so slightly towards the door just a few feet to his right. He can see the doorknob turning as if the sun itself were lighting up the room; can hear the slow, careful motion being blasted through a speaker. His brain tries to reason that it’s Anzu—that she forgot her earphones again and she came back despite the time; it’s okay, Mao can just walk her home now—but he knows it’s not Anzu. She wouldn’t have tried the front door first. She wouldn’t be tentatively pushing the back door open on its squeaky hinges as though she were overly cautious of being noticed by anyone inside.

Natural night light streams through the doorway as the gap between door and frame grows wider and wider—just big enough for a large, hooded man to slip inside. He closes the door behind himself immediately, and perhaps the return to darkness is the only thing keeping Mao safe, because the one working alley lamp had briefly—brightly—reflected against a knife clutched in a scarred, burly fist. The blade had winked at Mao with an eerie, chilling shine.

The man makes his way forward carefully, clearly still needing to feel for his surroundings. Mao, whose eyes have had a chance to adjust to the dark, can only stay cemented in place and silently plead to any being who would listen that this burglar _does not turn around_. A few ample steps closer and he’ll stumble right over Mao’s discarded backpack.

Mao knows he should be scared—and he probably is, deep down—but he’s so intensely honed in on the situation that he’s unable to think. He can barely register his own heartbeat, let alone acknowledge his fear. So when a hand that isn’t his own clamps over his mouth, all he can do is blink in shock.

A quiet, loving voice: _“Close your eyes, Maa-kun.”_

“Who’s there!” the man shouts. His shoes scuffle on the floor as he turns rapidly.

Mao takes a breath and shuts his eyes tightly, then he locks his lips together to prevent himself from gasping when he feels Ritsu leave his side.

A loud, straining _rip_ breaks the silence. It takes Mao a moment to place the sound to an action: fabric is tearing, strip after strip; repeated, forceful breaking of fiber followed by the elegant trickle of royal diamonds dropping to the floor. An odd organic sound that Mao’s never heard before sloshes and pops and morphs into existence, and then the sensation of being a small prey animal returns. The space around him feels invaded by something large—something deadly and unnatural.

“Don’t fucking try anything stupid!” the man threatens to the darkness.

Ritsu ignores him, apparently. A booming, inhuman screech vibrates through the room and jostles every one of Mao’s cells. His hands shoot up to cover his ears, but he can still hear the wannabe robber scream in fright. A beastly, terrifying roar, another scream, the clang of a metal door—and then it’s quiet. After all that, it’s too quiet. Mao’s legs quiver as though the floor is rumbling beneath him, and maybe it is. Is the building even still standing?

Mao stumbles forward and Ritsu catches him—warm, gentle Ritsu.

“You can open your eyes, Maa-kun,” Ritsu says, kissing the top of Mao’s head. “The bad human ran away.”

Mao blinks rapidly to rid his vision of sparkling white dots. He looks at Ritsu’s face until he can see straight, then he pulls Ritsu in for a messy, desperate kiss. He grabs at Ritsu’s cheeks, tugs fingers through his hair—anything to get him closer.

“Shit,” Mao breathes.

Ritsu meets Mao’s sloppy pecks with his own giggly ones. “You’re safe,” he promises.

Mao moves his hands to Ritsu’s shoulders and feels comforting warmth—and as he trails down Ritsu’s sides, he continues to feel skin. “What—” He fumbles with the lightswitches and manages to flick a single one on.

Ritsu is stark naked.

Mao’s eyes widen so much he immediately has to blink against the dryness. His focus momentarily flickers between all the discarded gems and expensive cloth now littering the floor, but—again—Ritsu is _naked_ , so he quickly turns his head up to the ceiling, cheeks flushing pink.

_“Ritsu?!”_

Ritsu just laughs. “I’ve never seen you so emotional before,” he says, leaning in closer. “Terrified, excitable, embarrassed… _Ah,_ I like this side of you too, Maa-kun.”

Mao glances back at Ritsu, but keeps his gaze up— _way_ up. “Why… Why are you…!”

“Hm?” Ritsu raises an eyebrow, as though Mao just asked a very silly question. "Those garments could only fit this form.”

 _This_ form? Nope—not right now. That’s a topic for another night.

“Just… I have some spare clothes in my locker. Please,” Mao says, “go put them on.”

Ritsu’s laugh follows him to the back room, and only when the door closes does Mao slouch against the wall and press his hands to his burning cheeks. To busy himself, he picks up the scraps of Ritsu’s former attire and shoves them into his bag, not quite sure what else to do with remnants of another dimension other than get them out of sight.

When Ritsu finally emerges once more—fully clothed, thank god—Mao has just finished convincing a nearby shop owner that he has no idea where all those strange sounds came from (“You heard them too? Wow, weird, huh? Must be the neighbors playing video games again. Haha, yeah, kids these days.”). He turns on his heel, ready to scold his uncontrollable personal prince of the underworld for causing unnecessary havoc, but all that comes out is a bark of laughter.

Ritsu is wearing a bubblegum pink hoodie with matching sweatpants that bare his ankles and uncovered feet, looking the picture of innocence, save for the intimidating horns on his head that could puncture skin like butter.

“Ritsu…” Mao snorts through the hand covering his mouth. “Those… those aren’t mine.”

“Ah,” Ritsu says. He looks down and wiggles his toes. “I did think they were too small for you… We _are_ practically the same size.” A flash of excitement dances across ruby red irises. “But, Maa-kun, this clothing really is as wonderful as I thought it would be. It’s soft like you.”

Mao can’t help himself: he holds out his arms and his demon nestles comfortably into the embrace. The feeling of Ritsu being so tender to the touch is new, and Mao already sees himself getting addicted. He holds Ritsu tighter and nuzzles into his shoulder. “You can keep it,” he says, voice slightly muffled by fabric. “For now.” He’s not exactly sure how human clothes will fare being taken to Hell and back, but Ritsu looks really, really cute. He knows for a fact that this is Anzu’s least favorite sweatsuit, anyway. The pros outweigh the cons.

After a solid two minutes of snuggles—and a bit of whining from Ritsu—Mao manages to break their hug so he can finish closing up and finally get _out of there_. The heavy clunk of the latch as he locks the back door behind them is currently his favorite sound in the world. He takes a deep breath of cold alley air and feels grateful for the freedom. The five total stars visible through the smog of the city are absolutely stunning.

A warm hand takes his.

“I’ll walk you, Maa-kun,” Ritsu says.

“Ritsu…” Mao starts, launching into their normal routine, but he realizes that he isn’t so opposed to the idea tonight.

“It’s not safe,” Ritsu says. “That’s what you told her.”

Mao cracks a smile at the realization that Ritsu had been hanging around before Anzu even left, lingering and waiting for a chance to pop in; so eager to see him that he arrived to this realm much too early.

“That human could still be nearby,” Ritsu continues. He squeezes Mao’s hand. “I’ll only escort you halfway, promise.”

Mao pulls Ritsu’s pink hood up over his horns—a bit of a struggle, one-handed—and hides them from sight. The bare feet might still turn heads, but that’s not a strange enough sight to rouse much suspicion around here. It shouldn’t be a problem for Ritsu either, seeing as Mao has witnessed him walk across a grill that was left burning without a single red mark staining his skin. He’ll be fine on pavement.

“Come on,” Mao says, giving Ritsu’s hand a gentle tug, and the toothy smile that spreads across Ritsu’s face sends Mao’s heart stuttering.

Mao’s trek home is not usually something he places much importance on. To him, it’s a path to get from point A, work, to point B, a hot shower. Tonight, though, he walks a little slower. He points out his favorite pizza joint at the end of one block, and mentions that his tutor, Keito, lives in an apartment up ahead. They pass a movie theater, a bank, an elementary school, and Ritsu’s eyes sparkle at all of it. He swings their arms between them happily as Mao lets him in more than he ever had before. They pass the halfway point about ten minutes in, but Mao doesn’t mention it.

When they veer off the main road and enter a more residential area, Mao stops before a sprawling grass field surrounded by an old iron fence. “This is a park I used to go to all the time when I was little,” he says. “They’re re-doing the playground right now, but that fountain over there is the same as before.” The faint, soothing sound of flowing water just barely reaches their ears.

“You’re smiling,” Ritsu points out, stepping in front of Mao to see him better. “This place is special to you?”

“Yeah,” Mao says. He’s never seen Ritsu quite like this before; surrounded by a place full of fond memories with unobstructed moonlight bathing his skin in a cool blue glow. He wants to kiss him, so he does. It’s only a quick kiss, but something about it feels special.

Ritsu finally unlocks their fingers so he can rest both palms on the sides of Mao’s neck, thumbs brushing over pulsing veins in slow, careful strokes. “Thank you for showing me this place,” he says, eyes squinting in gratitude.

Mao leans in once more, but Ritsu pulls away.

“If I kiss you again, I wouldn’t be able to stop,” Ritsu admits, playful but honest. Instead, he takes both of Mao’s hands and brings them to his lips. “I think we are much closer to your home than I promised I’d go,” he says, breath warm against Mao’s knuckles. He glances up at Mao through long lashes with those piercing red eyes. “Goodnight, Maa-kun.”

Mao feels Ritsu’s grip fading—physically feels him becoming weightless through their connected hands—and knows that in a moment, he will fly out of sight faster than Mao’s eyes can follow. Certainly faster than words can escape Mao’s throat.

“Maa-kun?”

Mao realizes that he had grabbed one of Ritsu’s thin wrists, holding it so tightly that his own fingers are rosy from the pressure. It seems his body is one step ahead of his mind.

“It’s a bit hot out,” he says.

Ritsu blinks and looks around. “Is it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Mao uncurls his grip from around Ritsu’s wrist and steps back, casually tucking hair behind his ear and shifting his stance so that he’s angled towards a house just across the street: homely cream paneling with a black shingled roof and a neat little garden. Mao looks pointedly at a room on the second floor framed by patterned curtains, and inside, a glimpse of a bookshelf stuffed full with comics. “I think I’ll leave my window open tonight.”

There’s a moment of silence, then Mao feels warm lips on the back of his neck that coax a surprised gasp from his throat.

“Yes,” Ritsu says in a voice brimming with amusement. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i wrote this because i desperately craved ritsumao kissing a lot, and if you happened to also enjoy it then that makes me very happy~


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